


Hold Your Breath and Count to Ten

by skyestiel



Series: Season 9 Codas [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boys Kissing, M/M, New Year's Eve, Season 9, verse without Gadreel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyestiel/pseuds/skyestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Out of all of the holidays human beings celebrated, New Year’s Eve had to be Castiel’s personal favorite. It made perfect sense. An opportunity to have a clean slate, to start over, certainly held an appeal for Castiel who had betrayed not only his brothers and sisters in heaven but also his best friends, his real family. However, he recently had been trying to atone for all of his past mistakes, and it almost seemed to be working. Dean appeared to be more relaxed around him, and Sam, who had always treated the angel with respect in the first place, had maintained his friendly demeanor. It was the closest the three of them had ever been- it truly was his chance to have a fresh start."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Your Breath and Count to Ten

Out of all of the holidays human beings celebrated, New Year's Eve had to be Castiel’s personal favorite. It made perfect sense. An opportunity to have a clean slate, to start over, certainly held an appeal for Castiel who had betrayed not only his brothers and sisters in heaven but also his best friends, his  _real_  family. However, he recently had been trying to atone for all of his past mistakes, and it almost seemed to be working. Dean appeared to be more relaxed around him, and Sam, who had always treated the angel with respect in the first place, had maintained his friendly demeanor. It was the closest the three of them had ever been- it truly was his chance to have a fresh start.

On December 31st, with the New Year impending, the day started out as it usually did at the bunker. Sam went out for a quick jog, while Dean stayed behind and whipped up a small breakfast of eggs and bacon. Castiel and Dean then sat together once everything was ready, patiently waiting for the younger Winchester brother to get home before they ate. Thankfully, Sam didn’t jog for long and Castiel only had to deal with  _some_  of the usual bitching and moaning from a hungry Dean.

Once everyone was gathered around the table with a delicious plate of food, they carried on casual conversation while they dug in, talking about hunts to look into and information that may pertain to the fallen angels or Metatron’s irreversible spell. Again, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for them.

The rest of the day carried on in roughly the same manner. Dean spent most of the day working on the Impala, Sam scanned through the extensive library looking for more information, and Castiel… well, he wandered around the bunker.

Both Sam and Dean seemed to believe that Castiel’s little trips to different areas of the bunker were aimless. Which was not the case, of course. The angel had been in the bunker for only a week, after all, and he didn’t know much about it other than the important details Sam had filled him in on when he settled down there the first night. But it was his home now; he deserved to know as much about it as possible.  
                        
Each trip introduced him to something different. There were many small, seemingly insignificant rooms in his new underground home, ones he wasn’t even sure Sam and Dean knew existed. He continued his search for several hours, finishing with a room that housed hundreds of different ingredients for spells, before he decided to make his way back to the main room of the bunker. To his surprise- and secretly, his delight- Dean must’ve had the same idea.

He sat quietly at the table, a worn leather book open in front of him. If it were Sam, Castiel would have simply assumed that the hunter was researching, but this was Dean, the man who loathed research. He was peering down at the book as if he were reading, eyes flitting across the pages, exuding an aura of absolute concentration, but something in his gaze made Castiel hesitate.

Something about the words on the pages appeared to be troubling the hunter. The set of his jaw, the way he kept shifting slightly in his seat, the quick movement of his tongue as it darted out to occasionally wet his lips- Castiel had known the man long enough to know he was anxious. He approached the table slowly and cautiously took a seat beside Dean.

"Excited for your first New Year’s Eve with the Winchesters?" Dean muttered. He glanced up from the book, and the moment his eyes met Castiel’s, the angel knew that he’d been right.

Pain. Sadness.  _Guilt_. Yes, that was the predominant emotion in the hunter’s gaze, inescapable and overwhelming guilt. It seemed to visibly weigh down on Dean, his shoulders hunched, his lips only able to turn up into the ghost of a smile instead of the delighted grin Castiel had had the pleasure of seeing once or twice. And Castiel, the man who had to deal with the guilt of killing hundreds of his own brothers and sisters in his attempt to play God, could sympathize.  

"It does not seem to be anything out of the ordinary for you two," Castiel remarked honestly, itching to look down at the spine of the book Dean had been pouring over, "or am I missing something?"

Dean chuckled, a much louder and genuine reaction than Castiel had been expecting considering the hunter’s current demeanor. “Nah, you didn’t miss anything. The party just hasn’t started yet.”

"I see," Castiel mumbled. And the temptation became too much for him to handle- he had to know the reason for Dean’s distress. He gestured down at the book, eying it suspiciously. "What is that?"

"Oh, this," Dean sighs, glancing down at the book as if he’d forgotten it was there, "it’s just… it talks about that fucking irreversible spell and… I found it like an hour ago and thought ‘hey, maybe there’s a loophole!’"

At this point, Castiel lowered his gaze down to Dean’s chest. The fire in the hunter’s eyes, the venom in his voice- it was all far too intense for the angel.

"But there isn’t. I’ve been flipping through this worthless piece of shit for an hour, and it doesn’t say anything about how to fix it!"

"Dean…"

"It figures, though. All of those angelic pricks are stuck here, and there’s not a single thing I can do to change that."

"Dean-"

"And you- you’re a part of that. Sure, its nice having the chance to play around with the hairless apes for a while but eventually-"

"Dean, shut up," Castiel growled, leaning forward in his seat. He hated it when the hunter acted like this. He tried to pin everything on himself. If something went wrong on a hunt, it was Dean’s fault. If someone close to the Winchesters died and Dean happened to be present when that person was killed, it was the hunter’s fault. So, of course, if his angelic best friend decided to assist the scribe of God in expelling all of the angels from heaven, it was most certainly Dean’s fault, too.  _Of course_.

"I was the one who chose to work with Metatron," Castiel insisted, interjecting before the hunter could open his damn mouth, "not  _you_. And once Naomi spoke with the two of us, you tried to warn me to stop."

As Castiel had expected, Dean didn’t say a word. There simply wasn’t any room for an argument; it was all true. He couldn’t possibly say that he hadn’t spoken to the angel in an attempt to dissuade him from participating in the final trial before he left to complete it.

"And you know what? I should’ve listened to you- my best friend- instead of some egotistical, wildly jealous and power-hungry angel. If anyone should be feeling guilty right now, its me."

Immediately, Dean’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head. To Castiel’s surprise, he reached across the table and placed his hand on top of the angel’s.

Castiel’s felt the familiar nervous flutter in his chest that always seemed to surface when Dean touched him. This wasn’t the first time he’d experienced the sensation, and he would be lying if he claimed that he wished it would be the last time he ever did.

"Cas," Dean sighed, "you’ve gotta stop doing that to yourself. The bastard tricked you! It happens." The hunter squeezed Castiel’s hand reassuringly and slowly pulled his hand away.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I will only stop if you agree to do the same.”

"What do you-"

"You must agree that you will do the same," the angel reiterated. He was sick of the hunter being so hard on himself. Everyone made mistakes; Castiel certainly knew that.

Dean narrowed his eyes. He looked as if he wanted to argue, be his usual stubborn self, but he thankfully refrained. “Fine,” he murmured dejectedly.

Silence quickly filled the room. A small smile lit up Castiel’s face as he watched Dean from across the table, pleased by the hunter’s surprising agreement. He hadn’t been expecting him to give in so easily. Normally, the hunter would’ve continued to debate the matter for another hour until he finally cooperated, if he even ended up cooperating at all.

"Damn, I know what we need," Dean blurted excitedly, pointing at Castiel, "it’s New Year’s Eve, Cas, we need some alcohol. Maybe a couple beers…" He pushed his chair back and quickly stood, flashing the angel a mischievous grin before turning and jogging towards the kitchen.

Castiel quietly sat and watched the hunter leave, struggling to ignore the same feeling that had invaded his senses earlier. It was steadily growing, almost to the point where it couldn’t be ignored any longer. This Dean- the one who smiled and laughed, the one whose eyes twinkled with child-like excitement, the one who willingly expressed emotion- was the one Castiel loved being around.

"Here we go!" Dean called from the other room. He shuffled from the kitchen with a bottle of beer in each hand, that same enthusiastic grin plastered to his face. He looked pretty damn proud of himself, a thought that secretly thrilled Castiel. The hunter deserved to be proud of himself.

"I checked the clock while I was in there, and it’s 11:57. You know what that means?"

Castiel tilted his head to the side. “I… no, I do not know the-"

"Looks like you guys started the party without me."

Dean and Castiel both turned towards the doorway where Sam stood, laptop tucked securely under his arm. He smiled down at the two wide-eyed men and rolled his eyes.

"I was just kidding, God," he chuckled and strode over to the seat closest to Dean. He glanced over at Castiel with narrowed eyes. The angel knew that look; the hunter was thinking- no, scratch that. He was scheming.

"So, do you guys want to do the whole 'countdown to the New Year' thing? I found this website that'll do it for us," Sam explained, plopping his laptop on the table in front of Dean. Again, he looked over at Castiel, as if he knew the other man would immediately be intrigued.

"I've never had the oppurtunity to"- the angel raised his hands, making air quotation marks- "'count down to the New Year'. I am aware of the tradition, though."

It must've been the response Sam was hoping for based on the look of pure excitement in his gaze. He gestured for the angel to come take a seat on the other side of Dean. "Then come over here, man," Sam insisted, "there's a first time for everything."

Dean remained silent throughout the whole exchange, his eyes darting between his younger brother and the angel. As Castiel watched, attempting to gauge the hunter's reaction as he slouched into the seat beside him, he couldn't help but notice that he still seemed as if something were troubling him. 

"Alright," Sam sighed and flipped open his laptop, bringing up the image of a large timer against a striking red background. 

"Hm," Dean mumbled, shifting in his seat, "looks like we have another minute."

"Yep," Sam replied, popping the "p". 

Once again, the room was quiet. Dean continued to stare off into space, clearly lost in thought, while Sam nervously cracked his knuckles. Castiel didn't know where to look; both men were making him incredibly- and unnecessarily, he was sure of it- anxious. 

"Okay, you know what," Sam blurted, straightening up in his seat, "screw it. There's something I have to say."

Dean's brow furrowed. He shot his younger brother a skeptical look. "Spit it out then."

"Okay, well, I'm not really the best with words," Sam began hesitantly, glancing over at both men before continuing, "but I just wanted to say that... I know that this year has sucked- not any more than the past several years, I guess- but I've been thinking about it and-"

He stopped, drawing in a deep breath. For a few seconds, he seemed to mull over the rest of his declaration in his head, silently determining what he was really trying to say.

"I don't think I'd still be living and breathing today if it weren't for you two. And I...," Sam finished softly, "thank you."

Castiel reached across Dean to place a reassuring hand on the younger Winchester's arm. "I should be thanking you, Sam," the angel insisted, "you and Dean have taught me so much. You've given me a reason to fight instead of simply giving up as I've been tempted to do many times."

Sam opened his mouth to speak, most likely to dispute the angel's words, but Dean beat him to it. "I have something to say."

That shut the younger Winchester up. He and the angel turned to face the stoic face of the man between them, their curiosities most certainly piqued. Instead of elaborating, though, he simply breathed out a shaky exhale and shifted slowly in his seat, cautiously facing the angel beside him. 

"Fuck, it'd probably be better if I just showed you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. To Castiel's surprise, the hunter began to lean closer, raking over the angel's frightened expression with his eyes, savoring the shocked little gasp that slipped past his lips. 

In some distant part of the angel's mind, he remembered that Sam was sitting on the other side of Dean. He also heard the faint sound of a robotic voice repeating numbers, mere background noise, filtering through his brain as if it were actually coming from miles and miles away.

_Ten._

Dean brought his hands up to cup the angel's face, swiping his thumb across the soft skin of his cheekbones. The hunter still looked nervous, possibly thinking that Castiel could pull away at any moment.

_Nine. Eight._

He brought one of his hands over to Castiel's mouth, trailing his finger across the thick swell of his lower lip. He appeared to be entranced by the sight, as if he couldn't believe they were that close, the angel just within his grasp.

_Seven. Six._

Their faces were only centimeters apart by now, and Castiel could feel the delicious warmth of Dean's breath against his skin, a shiver running down his spine.

_Five. Four._

His emerald green eyes peered directly into the angel's, an unspoken question of whether what he was about to do was alright. Castiel prayed that the way he met the hunter's expectant gaze counted as an affirmation, licking his lips in anticipation. 

_Three. Two._

The angel couldn't believe it. He had secretly been waiting for something like this to happen, always too hesitant to make a move himself considering the kind of person he knew Dean could be in these "chick flick" moments. But no, the first gentle brush of the hunter's lips against his own was very real.

_One._

As incredibly cliche as it may sound, time seemed to stop. Castiel had only heard of moments like this before, when things seemed to slip easily into place, when the universe finally worked its magic. The kiss didn't possess the same hungry, lustful passion of the angel's kiss with Meg; however, it was far more earth shattering.

The chaste press of Dean's lips slowly began to stitch the angel back together again, fixing him, starting at his very core and moving to the distant corners of his shattered mind. That's what it was, what made the kiss different.

It wasn't  _just_  a kiss; it was more than that, so much more. The angel had been looking for a way to start over, and he had actually managed to find it. He had found it in the comforting warmth of Dean's touch and the small sigh of contentment that slipped past the hunter's lips before he carefully pulled away.

"Happy New Year, Cas," Dean whispered softly. And for once in Castiel's life, he thought that maybe it would be a good year for him. 


End file.
